


The Moment

by winter156



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-17
Packaged: 2018-12-30 17:55:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12114099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter156/pseuds/winter156
Summary: A realization dawns on Miranda.





	The Moment

**Author's Note:**

> Not a new story. Pretty old, in fact, since I've been away from fandom for a long while. I'm just moving stuff over from other sites. I have edited these, nothing content wise, but a few grammatical errors and flow errors that were too glaring to leave in place.

Miranda steps through the threshold of the townhouse. She stops one step inside, the door open widely behind her. The evening heat rushes in around the rooted woman.  
  
Something is different. Blue eyes narrow in suspicion. Miranda looks around. Nothing is out of place from what she can see from the entrance.  
  
The click of the lock is loud in the silence of the house. All she can hear is the quiet whir of the air conditioning engaging to fight off the oppressive heat that Miranda let in. Her heels tap loudly against the floor as she moves deeper into the house.  
  
Empty.  
  
As it should be.  
  
But even in the emptiness, something is different. There is a softness—a warmness—to the atmosphere that Miranda can’t explain.  
  
She has lived in the townhouse since before her girls were born. She has always loved its height and grandness. Its walls have withstood all seasons and all weather and its halls have withstood two failed marriages and the upbringing of her children. She ventures to think the house can withstand anything.  
  
Miranda is lost for a moment in memory and thought. The townhouse is a place that has always been a retreat from the world. But, today she feels that something has changed. Perhaps there has been a change for some time that she inadvertently missed.  
  
The sounds of someone on the other side of her front door grabs her attention.  
  
The turning of the locks is mesmerizing. And, Miranda simply waits and stares.  
  
The door opens widely with the exuberant energy of the person throwing it open. Andy stops short when she finally raises her head. A smile breaks across her face; her eyes shine with happiness. Miranda thinks for a moment that surely the girl can’t be looking at her like that: with enough love to drown her.  
  
“Miranda, you’re home early.”  
  
_Home._  
  
It strikes Miranda in a belated epiphany: that’s what’s different. For the first time that she can recall, it feels like she’s come home. Not just to a house that she owns, or a piece of property in her name, or the place her family inhabits. But, _home_.  
  
It’s all she can think before Andy wraps her up in a hug. And the feeling intensifies inside Miranda: the warmth and softness of a place where safety and acceptance are freely given.  
  
She bites the cliché of words that want to tumble out of her mouth at this grand revelation that is most assuredly not surprising to the woman wrapped around her.  
  
Miranda kisses the lips still spread in a smile. And that simple contact fills her with a feeling of completeness. Her lips quirk in a small, pleased smile.  
  
“Yes, I’m home.”


End file.
